


Bayushki Bayu

by avianbrother



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Slow Build, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianbrother/pseuds/avianbrother
Summary: The doctors gave you strength. Overwatch gave you a home.





	1. Arrival

The setup at Overwatch was everything Zarya promised and more. You let out a low whistle as you stepped off the carrier, nodding in appreciation at the newly revamped base.

“Very nice,” you said. She smiled and gave a warm, satisfied chuckle.

“See? I told you, is not so bad when you get used to it.” You only had a couple duffle bags worth of things, and you caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes as she took in what few possessions you had left after all that had happened. She quickly recovered, putting a firm arm around your shoulders and leading you toward your new home. For the most part she was quiet, only pointing out the occasional unmarked corridor. She hummed a marching tune as you made your way to the base common room. Several agents looked up when you arrived.

“Reinhardt!” said Zarya. “I finally brought my friend I’ve been telling you about.”

You leaned over and not so subtly whispered in her ear, “You’ve been talking about me?”

She laughed and replied in the same hushed tone, “Of course. Helps get them excited to meet you.”

You couldn’t help but beam as a mountain of a man stood up and walked over, gently shaking your hand. “Ahh, so nice to meet you! Zarya has told me of your many adventures together. I hope you’re as strong as she says.” You sensed the challenge in his voice, and squeezed his hand a bit harder. He took it in good humor, slapping you on the back so hard you almost fell over. “Haha! I can tell you are a fighter as well. We will work nicely together.”

Reinhardt returned to what he was doing and you got ready to continue through the queue of greeters. Zarya dragged you over to a couch where a man dressed as a cowboy was lounging. He rose from his seat and grabbed your hand, pulling it to his lips for a kiss. When he looked back up he gave you a wink.

“Howdy, miss. I’m McCree,” he said in a syrupy drawl. You were lucky Zarya had warned you ahead of time otherwise you would have laughed, just flat out rolling-on-the-floor _laughed_ at this caricature of a man. You gave him a toothy grin instead.

“I kinda figured,” you replied. McCree eyed you up and down, and you could sense his curiosity as he puffed on his cigar and tilted his head. It’s not as though you fit the picture of Deadly Overwatch Special Agent. But you let it slide. And besides, his gaze lingered just long enough you got the feeling he liked what he saw. His smile only affirmed your suspicions.

“Well, if you need anything just give me holler, alright?” said McCree. You nodded and Zarya swept you along to the last agent in the room.

Something about the way the woman set down her teacup and stood made you straighten up in her presence. She moved with a graceful authority you couldn’t help but admire as she shook your hand and studied you. “Hello there,” she said. “I’m Ana Amari, but you can call me Ana.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Zarya didn’t leave you much time before she ushered you away. You gave a final wave to the group and continued on the path. After a few minutes you glanced behind to be sure you were alone. “Aleksandra…”

She stopped. Moments passed and then she turned to you. There was softness underneath her hard exterior, beneath the muscles and beneath the shields she had built during the many Omnic conflicts. It was rare for her to show it. Sometimes you wondered if she had any settings besides joy and seriousness. The sigh she released twisted your heart and you almost regretted opening your mouth.

“Lapochka…”

“How much have you told them?” you asked, cutting to the point. She sighed again and it twisted even more.

“Reinhardt knows, so does Winston and the good doctor. I thought it best we ease them into it, let them meet you.” She squeezed your shoulder and did her best to cheer you with a soft smile. “I know you worry they will judge you, but you have nothing to be afraid of. It will be good for you here…you will have a _team_ here.”

The word made hope rise within you.

“Alright,” you conceded. You readjusted your bags and kept going. “I just hope you have a lot of food here or there’s gonna be some problems.” Her laugh eased you, and she helped you with your bags as she went on about all the good stuff in the kitchen.

~~~

Spacious was the first word that came to mind when you saw your new room. No doubt Zarya and Reinhardt had a hand in choosing your accommodations. The bed was especially large, with more than enough space to fit you and one or two others. When you tested it, you nearly melted into the mattress. Memory foam and so, so many cushions…Zarya was pulling out all the stops to make this place comfortable for you. You laid there and just let yourself relax. Unpacking would be quick, your bags stuffed mainly with clothes and necessities. It could wait a little longer…

“Please report to the medical bay to see Dr. Ziegler,” buzzed an electronic voice from seemingly nowhere that you could only assume was Athena, the resident AI. You groaned, nails digging into the covers with irritation before you pushed yourself up and obeyed the AI’s request.

Signs and arrows clearly pointed the direction to the med bay, making it impossible for you to get lost. You stopped in front of the doors and they simply whooshed open without pausing for you to knock. You poked your head in, spying the famous Mercy herself typing on her computer.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” said Mercy, having heard the door open. You stepped inside and awkwardly leaned against one of the exam tables.

You didn’t care for hospitals after your treatments. While you knew rationally they were a place of healing, the deeper instincts that were awakened in you told to avoid where sickness gathered and strangers poked and prodded you. But as you scoped the med bay, the tension began to ease. The facilities were state of the art, yet there wasn’t that stiff, impersonal air that made you feel like you were under a microscope. And aside from a hint of disinfectant, it didn’t smell so bad. You watched Mercy type away, looking rather nice even without her fancy getup. You started to space out, listening to the hum of the AC and the quiet tapping of keys.

“That’s finished,” said Mercy, snapping you back to earth. Her chipper attitude was infectious. You perked up when she came over, tablet tucked under her arm. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting—I was piecing together your medical records.”

“It’s no problem,” you assured. You hopped up on the exam table. Mercy pressed on the tablet and brought up your records on a nearby screen. She pursed her lips and hummed as she read it over.

“I must say, I’m…surprised by the lack of information about the experiment and your physical condition afterwards.” You had to agree when you realized there was maybe a half page of data once you got past everything that was redacted. There were some pictures and blurry video taken since then that showcased your abilities, but it was recorded during your time working with Zarya’s team and didn’t help Mercy find the answers she wanted.

“They made me sign a lot of paperwork,” you admitted, “and it was mostly gag orders.”

Mercy raised a brow. “Please tell me this experimental procedure was legal.”

“About as legal as the SEP was. I mean, I’m okay and I got what I needed out of it. I wasn’t exactly their first pick for a trial candidate, but the others kind of…”

“Died.” It wasn’t a question. Shame rose in you at the stern expression she directed at the screen.

You would never confess to her you enjoyed your new condition. The procedure had cured every ailment you had and you healed at a rapid pace when you shifted forms. You felt free and strong and in control. You were powerful. And you loved it. So it was for the best that you buried every memory of the experiments and all the patients that died along the way, save you and one other.

You squirmed nervously as she became lost in thought. But she was quick to switch moods back to that kind bedside manner of hers.

“I suppose we will have to make do with what we have and monitor your condition,” she said. She went to a metal cabinet and returned with a small stack of clothes. “Thankfully, I was able to contact one of my associates who provided a uniform that can withstand your transformations.”

You held up the tank top, testing its stretch. The hemline would rise once you shifted but that was to be expected. The bottoms were similar to cycling shorts, formfitting and stopping just above the knee.

“I was assured that those would be suitable for your—ahem— _appendage_.” You barked a laugh, setting aside the clothes and shaking your head.

“I have never had it called _that_ before but there’s a first time for everything,” you teased. She blushed and coughed into her fist, busying herself with other things.

“Yes, well, I have had some memorable patients over the years just none with your specific abilities.” She eased up a bit as she talked about her work. “Winston was a challenge but he is doing quite well now, as are Genji and Tracer.”

You nodded as she talked, knowing the names of your new teammates yet still in the dark about who they really were. “Everyone here seems pretty nice.”

Mercy smiled. “I do hope you enjoy it here. We could always use allies in our fight, and Zarya spoke very highly of you.”

“She and I go back a long ways. I was a fan of hers when she was just a lifter. We met at one of the competitions and kept in touch even when I left for the procedure. After I recovered, she offered me a place with her in the Russian Defense Forces for a couple years. She is…a very good friend.” The bond you had with Zarya was more than friendship. There was no romance—she wasn’t your type and she was aware of the issues you had—yet being together made you feel stronger than the mountains, able to crush any foe.

Mercy pulled you from your musings as she readied a syringe. You paled, twitching anxiously. She picked up on your apprehension.

“Do not worry,” she soothed. She rubbed an alcohol swab on your upper arm. “Just a little shot, nothing more. This will ease some of the complications in your menstrual cycle caused by your transformations. It will regulate it for you.”

You were pleasantly surprised. The constant growth and shrinkage of your organs made your cycle out of whack, coming at unexpected times and sometimes much heavier than you anticipated. You had never thought of taking anything for it though, in fact you very much doubted that anything _could_ help. “That’s actually really sweet. Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.”

She waved it off and inserted the needle. “Nonsense, it’s the least I could do. And please feel free to call me Mercy or Angela.” The whole thing was over quick, you felt only a tiny prick. She put a bandaid over the spot and clapped. “All done! You’ll have to get another dose in three months—I’ll let you know when to come again.”

You gave her a thumbs up, gathering the clothes and hopping off the exam table. You shouted another thank you as you left, Mercy already working on some other task.

When you got back to your room you tried on your new outfit, shedding the loose, comfy clothes you normally wore. You did your best to keep your wardrobe intact when you shifted, sticking to pieces that wouldn’t tear with your sudden growth. It made you look like a sack more often than not, but it saved everyone the embarrassment of you changing back naked. This new set looked good on you, though. You admired yourself in the mirror by your closet, doing a couple poses and flexing your muscles. You didn’t have it in you to shift, not yet. You were confident the clothes Mercy ordered for you would hold up just fine, and some dark corner of you wanted to wait until battle to change, to see the looks on your teammates’ faces as you grew and burst apart from the inside.

You didn’t buy into the disgusting, animalistic fantasies like _he_ did. You didn’t feel the urge to fuck and maim and slaughter everything in your path. Yes, you felt powerful. More importantly, you felt the desire and strength to protect those around you. It was the only piece of that bullshit alpha wolf-man garbage that you held onto. To belong to a team, to run and fight and live happily alongside others…that was the dream.

You grinned at your reflection, flashing a hint of fang, the only sign that you were anything more than an average human.

Yes. This place would do just fine.


	2. Be Sure To Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarya and Reinhardt bond over their muscles.

After meeting Reinhardt you quickly realized that he was just as boisterous as Zarya. When you got breakfast the next morning after getting your things settled, the large man took the seat across from you, practically radiating sunshine and confidence. It was infectious. You couldn’t stop beaming as he went on in that booming voice, asking you to join him and Zarya for their mid-morning workout. You shoveled your pancakes into your mouth and nodded, maple syrup sliding down your chin. He ate at a slower pace, savoring his food. It was actually pretty good for cafeteria fare.

A girl in pink shorts and a shirt with a rabbit printed on the front shuffled past with a yawn, her headset around her neck. Soothing techno drifted out. Reinhardt waved her over, and she sleepily sized you up.

“D.Va! This is our new member. She will be training with us today,” explained Reinhardt. D.Va tilted her head as she looked at you. You couldn’t tell if she was simply tired or uninterested. Maybe a bit of both. You swallowed and wiped your face with a napkin in an attempt to look presentable. You knew you recognized her from the news, though you didn’t follow what was going on in Korea even after transferring to Russia. She seemed young, even if you weren’t much older yourself. You smiled and gave your name.

“Nice shirt by the way,” you said offhandedly. It _was_ cute…and there was something ironic about you of all people working with a girl who had a thing for rabbits. She didn’t seem to catch on to your own personal joke, but the compliment cheered her up.

“Thanks, newbie,” she said, puffing up with pride. “So you think you can keep up with me and the team?”

You raised your cup of coffee in a mock toast. “I’m gonna try.”

She seemed to be satisfied with your answer. She went off in search of energy drinks, and you couldn’t help but find it amusing that you were matched with a group that seemed to consist entirely of upbeat show offs. Well, almost entirely. Winston had made an appearance at your door before you went to bed. He seemed awkward, in that endearing, nerdy sort of way. He gave the usual “it’ll be a pleasure working with you” speech and the “if you need anything” speech before going on his way. You still weren’t sure where he fit into the chain of command. He may have started this Recall thing, but he didn’t strike you as the de facto leader. You assumed it was this elusive Soldier 76 guy, wherever the heck he was.

You finished your food and returned to your room to change into something suitable for a workout. A gym bag was set aside from the rest of your baggage; you planned to get a lot of use out of it with Zarya around. You hauled it with you, trying to make sense of the endless corridors. Finding the med bay had been easy enough, but there were far fewer aids to guide you to the gym. You eventually stuck on a path that led past the dorms and cafeteria. It brought you to a door marked the women’s lockers. You opened it and checked inside, spotting a convenient arrow on the wall pointing to the gym.

As you set down your bag, you noticed how empty the place was. Dust had gathered on some of the lockers. You remembered a time when Overwatch was _the_ organization, boasting a large task force and an endless line of bright eyed hopefuls desperate to join. Watchpoint Gibraltar had obviously been designed with a much bigger staff size in mind. You could only imagine what it had been like at its peak. Mercy was right about the newly reformed team needing allies.

 You plucked your water bottle from your bag and padded over to the gym. Music already thumped against the walls, a steady beat that moved to the rhythm of your heart. She must be warming up, you thought.

Grey mats covered the floor. Equipment was evenly spaced, intended for a multitude of different exercises and training programs. Mirrors lined one side. Zarya stood in the center, arms up high as she bent her torso to one side, realigned herself, and then stretched to the other side. She caught your gaze in the mirror, but didn’t stop her repetitions. “Good morning, lapochka,” she said, focusing on keeping proper form. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm. Like a baby.” You kicked off your shoes and took your spot beside her, following the pace of her movements. “That bed is fantastic by the way.”

She grinned, taking a second to relax before switching to her next set of stretches. “Good. It’s a bit too soft for me but I thought you’d like it. Restful sleep makes for a better routine and better health, you know.”

“Of course I know, you big bear,” you teased. Sometimes she was _too_ enthusiastic about her regimen and acting as a personal trainer. She merely exhaled a tiny huff, paying no mind to your playful jab. Reinhardt appeared in the mirror, and she turned her attention to him instead.

“Ah, you finally caught up, old man. I thought you’d never show.” She stopped and faced him, hands on her hips. You continued your warm-up, following the steps she’d gone over on many occasions, content to watch the scene play out.

“Maybe if you spent more time training and less time talking you’d be able to handle real weapons,” Reinhardt shot back. Zarya scoffed, yet you knew this was nothing more than banter. She moved onto one of the treadmills, setting it up how she liked.

“Just you wait, old man,” she said over her shoulder, “I’ll make you eat your words.” She paused before stepping up, looking down at your feet with a frown. “What did I say about wearing shoes?”

You groaned, completely unwilling to deal with the impending reprimand. “I know it’s not the cleanest place to go barefoot, but come on,” you whined. “I’ll be going barefoot in the field anyway. What does it matter?”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, but didn’t argue. Reinhardt hummed with curiosity, glancing at you as he warmed up.

“You go barefoot?” he asked, sounding amused by the idea. You sighed, looking over to Zarya for help but she was already absorbed in her cardio. A blush colored your cheeks.

“Yeah, I sort of have to. I destroy every pair of shoes I’m wearing when I transform.” You chuckled to yourself as you thought back. “I just got really tired of buying shoes.”

It got a laugh from him. Minutes passed in relative quiet overlaid with Russian synth-pop. Every now and then you heard a loud pop from Rein’s direction, his worn joints cracking with use. Zarya would snicker and he would glare, and the cycle would repeat. After a of couple song changes you got started on your own cardio, taking one of the elliptical machines.

“You almost done, lapochke?” asked Zarya after fifteen minutes had passed, waiting by the bench press. You nodded and shut off your machine. “Come here and spot me.”

You both knew she didn’t really need a spotter, not with all her training and skill. But she liked to keep you close. You picked up a set of dumbbells and stood off to the side while she set up her weights. Watching her bench was like watching a mountain move the heavens, her muscles bulged and her brow furrowed in concentration as she steadily lifted the barbell and brought it back down to her chest. You did your squats, mentally counting your reps while enjoying the show.

“Why don’t you lift something a little heavier?” asked Rein, finally joining you two at the weight rack. “Aren’t you stronger than that?”

“Leave her alone, Reinhardt,” Zarya chided, setting her bar on the supports. She paused to breathe and looked to you to ensure you were alright. You tilted your head and shrugged, and she nodded in confirmation, leaving you to your own devices. The silent exchange went unnoticed by Rein.

“I’m strong when I shift,” you said. “I’m only about as strong as anyone else when I’m in human form.” And it showed. There was a normal amount of pudge in your midsection and softness around your edges. You didn’t share Zarya’s sculpted physique, not that she minded. “Training just keeps me in enough shape to fight.”

“Hmm.” Reinhardt mulled over this new information. Perhaps Zarya hadn’t told him as much as you thought. “Do you think you could give us a demonstration?” he said, all starry eyed and hopeful like a puppy dog.

You sighed and you exchanged a look with Zarya. “Not yet,” you said. “I kinda just…wanna wait until we get out in the field, you know? Surprise everyone with what I can really do.” You blushed, ducking your head. It was silly and childish to hold out like this, especially when you were so comfortable with your different forms. Overwatch had a talking gorilla and cyborg ninja, for fucks sake, there was no doubt they’d be accepting of your appearance when you transformed. What worried you was how they would take the sheer _brutality_. It wasn’t clean like a bullet or sword. Even Rein’s hammer guaranteed a near instant death due to the sheer size and finesse with which he wielded it. And if they somehow managed to take it in stride, hardened from their years in combat, there was certain to be very particular jokes made about your condition. You experienced plenty of that in the RDF.

“Oh.” The disappointment was palpable, but Rein recovered in seconds. “Very well! What better place to showcase than the field of honor?”

“Speaking of,” you set down your weights, “when do you think our first mission will be?”

Zarya shrugged. “I give it a week.”

Rein rumbled in agreement. “Jack is not the patient man he used to be. Talon has been very busy, and he’ll want you combat tested as soon as possible.”

You scoffed. “I’m no stranger to combat.”

Rein fixed you with a serious look. “Perhaps. Omnics are one thing, little wolf. Talon is a force to be reckoned with.” His expression softened. “I trust you to fight alongside me as you have done with Zarya. But you are still young, there is much left to learn.” He smiled fondly and mussed up your hair, laughing when you pouted and batted at his hand. His laughter warmed you, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

Being there in the gym between the two of them felt safe and familiar. It felt like coming home.

 


	3. A New Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone moves to the same beat, but that's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter will have the action, but for now, have more fluff.

Coming out of the gym, you felt buoyant, energized. Zarya never pushed you too hard during your exercises, only enough to make you break a sweat. As usual, she helped you clean off the equipment and sat with you while you both cooled off. Like being back in Russia, you thought. You waved to Reinhardt when he left. Synth music still flowed from the little gym speaker, though at a much slower rhythm and the volume turned low.

“Is good to have you back,” said Zarya, taking a gulp of her sports drink. “I love Volskaya, it will always be my home, but it was disappointing when you decided not to transfer with me.”

Your smile faded and unease pricked at your nerves. “I didn’t feel safe sticking around, not when he was so close.” She grimaced and her fingers twitched, aching to form a fist.

“All this time, and he still has not given up this delusion of his. Were he another man and the circumstances different, I would admire his tenacity.”

Deep down, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He had been just as human as you, just as desperate that the experimental treatment would be successful, or that you’d at least live long enough afterwards to collect the fat check the company offered in exchange for your use as a guinea pig. Only the two of you survived. Somehow, you both gained the same abilities. But you were fine. You accepted what happened and moved on with your life, enjoying the perks your condition offered you. You stayed in touch for a while, knowing that he would understand what you were going through. And he did...and then he changed. He took to the newfound power with a disturbing fervor, comparing himself to something greater than humanity. And then there was you, you who shared those abilities and awakened instincts. It must have been destiny that you lived and gained that superiority with him, or so he said.

Together, you’d be a pack.

Together, you’d be unstoppable.

You weren’t expecting it the first time he came to you in the dead of night, hands and teeth stained with blood. He was certain you’d help him escape the consequences of what he’d done, that you would join him and become a pack, hunting and taking what you wanted with him. After all, wouldn’t you of all people understand the deep, primal urges that controlled him? You refused. You hated the way he talked, the way he smelled, the way he prowled as if he was somehow better than everyone else. It enraged him to know that while he could take what he wanted from anyone, he couldn’t make you submit to his desires. He didn’t kill you. No, he would never kill you. But he wrapped a clawed around your throat and made you bleed, breaking bones and tearing flesh that was still so soft and weak. You healed quickly. But it wasn’t enough for him to hurt you. The next morning, you woke to find your neighbors slaughtered in their beds. You grabbed your possessions and fled.

After the second time he found you, Zarya brought you to Russia in the hopes he wouldn’t give chase. At first it worked. You felt safe again, and built a bond with your new comrades, despite their annoying tendency to make jokes at your expense. Until one night came and you could hear angry, pleading howls in the distance, and the birds in the trees around base stopped singing in the morning light for days after. That’s when you knew he would never stop until he broke you…would never stop until he twisted you from the inside out and turned you as dark and relentless and inhuman as he was…

The painful memories must have shown through, because you felt a gloved palm stroke your cheek. A pair of warm lips kissed your temple, and a strong arm draped across your shoulders.

“Do not worry, lapochka,” she whispered, “you are safe here. He will not find you, and if he does, we have more than enough fire power to deal with him.”

“We had plenty of firepower in the RDF,” you replied bitterly. She scoffed.

“Yes, but this is Overwatch. He is crazy but I don’t think he is so stupid to trespass here.” You couldn’t argue with that. She patted you on the thigh and stood. “Now come. The day is young and I won’t let you waste it on bad thoughts.” You took her hand and she pulled you up, giving another quick peck to your forehead. 

Back in the locker room, you pulled a towel from your bag and took it to one of the sinks in the attached bathroom so you could soak it in cool water. You dabbed away the sweat on your neck, face, and chest. You combed your wet fingers through your hair, sighing at how good it felt. Zarya leaned against the doorway, watching you with a smile. You locked eyes with her in the mirror and blushed, giggling bashfully. “What are you staring at?”

“Hmm? Nothing. You just look very good,” she answered, calm but with a hint of flirtation in her tone. “You always look good.”

“Goddamn flirt,” you muttered, unable to contain the joy and comfort she made you feel. “You keep that up, and the team will start thinking we’re a couple.”

That clear, alto laughter of hers started peeling out, and she wiped non-existent tears from her eyes. “Maybe a few years ago, lapochka,” she said. “I don’t think we could be mistaken for one now. We’re both too…ah—what is word?”

“Stubborn?” you suggested teasingly. She shot you a quick pout and then shook her head, trying to grasp the words that fit the meanings on her tongue.

“No…we—we are chasers of different hares.” She nodded, the phrase sounding right to her ears. You tilted your head, still confused by her proverbs after all these years. She sighed and gestured as if to grab her thoughts and lay them out in front of you. “We are similar, but our wants in life are not.”

“Ah—yeah, didn’t really work out as well as we’d hoped, did it?” You stared at the floor, a more vivid red rising on your cheeks. It’s not that you regretted trying a relationship with Zarya, in fact you were certain it had strengthened your friendship, but it was still awkward to remember how hard you tried only to realize you didn’t mesh on a romantic or sexual level.

She nudged you with her elbow and you met her gaze. She smiled down at you. “Do not worry. What happened is what happened, and I do not think less of you. We are chasers of different hares.” She shrugged. “Is a fact of life. Does not mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company.”

“Has anyone ever told you how much of a walking fortune cookie you are?” Again, she broke into fits of laughter, slapping you on the back. God, she was a beacon of mirth for all she spouted life teachings.

“I’d have to grow a beard to be a philosopher, and I don’t think I am ready for that.” You finally gathered up your things and exited the locker room, waving goodbye to your friend.

You walked back towards the cafeteria, considering treating yourself to a post-workout snack. Catching a whiff of cigar smoke, you stopped and spotted McCree approaching the same junction of hallways as you, looking like he’d only recently got up.

“G’morning, sugar,” he said, tipping his hat. “First day and you’re already working hard, huh?”

Eyeing his slightly disheveled appearance, you gave him a cheeky grin. “Well, someone around here has to,” you shot back. He laughed, hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Don’t go calling me out like that,” he replied. He moved alongside you as you walked. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smoke that overpowered your animal senses. You didn’t enjoy the smell even before you were enhanced, but it was bordering on unbearable now. McCree didn’t seem to notice, and even hummed some country tune as he swaggered. Taking the time to study him now that Zarya wasn’t there to rush you, you realized he was rather handsome in a rugged, earthy sort of way, despite dressing like a movie extra. His demeanor was relaxed, a pleasant change to the uptight, hardworking types that surrounded you in the RDF.

Arriving at the cafeteria, you hesitated, unsure whether to grab some food and go or stick around and socialize.

“You wanna join me?” asked McCree, perhaps picking up on your unease. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite none.”

You bit your lip, holding back the obvious joke that needed to be made. Instead you nodded, grabbing a protein bar and settling across the table from the cowboy. Once more, you wondered just how much Zarya told the team as McCree looked at you, head tilted like some curious puppy. You idly ate your snack bar, letting your legs stretch out as you reclined in the cheap plastic chair. A few times he opened his mouth as if to say something, then promptly shook his head and filled it with food. After a couple more tries, he decided on the standard small talk questions—what you thought of the base, where you grew up, how you’re feeling.

You answered them all easily. You were used to questions. Then he was silent, thoughtfully staring at the ceiling as he chewed.

“Do you like field combat?” he asked. It caught you off guard. You half choked on your mouthful of protein, chasing it with a bit of water. It wasn’t a question you expected, though you’d been asked before if you’d seen any action or where you’d been stationed. You sat up, leaning your elbows on the table as you contemplated your answer.

You weren’t born for fighting, that much was true. And though you’d grown up watching the heroes of Overwatch lauded across every news channel, you never felt the urge to enlist or campaign for glory like the rest of your peers. It wasn’t until you met Zarya and you signed on for the experimental treatment that you had any desire to fight. And now…well, you were quite good at it. It was instinctual. But you weren’t sure how to phrase is without telling him too much.

“I don’t _dislike_ it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “This wasn’t my first career choice, but I manage. I like fighting _with_ people, though.” That was certainly true. “I want to protect people, even if it means killing someone else.”

His attention was completely on you. He nodded, absorbing your answer. You didn’t know his story, only the sort of person he was from Zarya’s anecdotes.

“I can understand that,” he said. “I didn’t have much choice when I joined either. But I worked my ass off and got to know everyone. Having good folks around helps keep you going. Makes it all feel worth it, you know?”

 “I know exactly what you mean. Russia was cold and empty as hell, but the guys in the RDF were the kind I’d stand with any day.”

“Don’t think I could handle that kind of cold. Winter nights in New Mexico ain’t so bad, and there was that one time Tracer brought me to London and I got pneumonia. Never did like those cold rains and that damn slush.” You scoffed.

“That’s nothing compared to Siberian mud. It can suck you down to your knees and you’ll never get out. I’m glad you guys are running here in Gibraltar. Maybe I can actually get a tan.”

“Remind me to show you pictures of ol’ Reinhardt,” said McCree, “he had the flowing hair and a golden tan. Looked just like one of those barbarian action figures.” Yeah, you could see it.

From out in the hall, you heard a loud, thumping bass, and a bright streak of green zoomed past with a quick, “hi!” before disappearing. A few seconds passed and the bunny girl from earlier came racing after, yelling something in Korean. McCree shook his head, and said something that sounded like “crazy kids” under his breath.

“What was that?” you dared to ask.

“That’s just Lucio and D.Va,” he said. “Those two are smitten but they keep dancing ‘round one another like a couple of prairie dogs in a burrow. Everyone on base can tell, but they’re too young, or too stupid, to do anything about it.” It took you a bit to register what he said.

“Wait, Lucio? As in _the_ Lucio?!” Leave it to Zarya to forget that there was a _literal celebrity_ on the team.

“One and the same. Not sure why he’s here, but him and D.Va and Rein are all partners in crime.” You practically vibrated out of your chair with excitement.

“Do you know where he was going?” McCree sighed and jerked his thumb towards the doorway.

“Him and Hana like to hang out in the hangar while she works on her mech. If they ain’t there, they’ll be in her room playing those games of hers.” You shot off and he rolled his eyes, saying something you couldn’t catch.

Zarya qualified as a celebrity, of course, but she wasn’t the same kind of celebrity as someone like Lucio, who was an international music genius. And it wasn’t every day that you got to meet a celebrity that you hadn’t already spend years in the trenches with.

The hangar was massive, at least one aircraft locked in high above your head. A set of doors was open, letting in the sea breeze and sunshine. D.Va’s mech was parked just inside the shade, but close enough that she and Lucio could get the nice air as they chatted. Lucio sat on a crate, kicking his legs as D.Va crouched beside her mech, checking the wiring in one of the side panels. You approached slowly, brewing with a mix of delight and nervousness. D.Va poked her head up and waved.

“Hey, newbie,” she shouted across the hangar when you were only a few meters away. She popped her gum and turned her attention back to her task. Lucio beamed and patted the spot beside him.

“Hey, how’s it hanging?” his voice was a constant cheer, like a motivational poster personified into a genuine, sincere human being. His albums had only a fraction of the warmth and soul of their creator. You climbed up on the crate. You hadn’t been flustered like this in a long time, but it was good nervous, it made you feel alive.

“Uh, hi. You must be Lucio, I’ve heard you—well, heard _about_ you, never in concert, but I have listened to most of your albums, and…yeah. Hi.” you stammered. “I’m a fan.”

His smile wrapped you in joy like a blanket. “Always nice to meet a fan,” said Lucio, shaking your hand. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

“Me too. With you, that is. Working with you.” You probably looked like a tomato.

“It’s okay, I was nervous my first time, too,” said D.Va, not once looking away from her pink mech. “It’s normal to be star struck.”

You gaped and wrung your hands but Lucio nudged you with his elbow. A soft, electric beat hummed from the little speakers attached to the ends of his dreads. “Hey, no worries. I may be big in the music scene, but I’m just like everyone else here. Just a person trying to make a difference.”

His words calmed you. You let out a contented sigh, the music mingling with the sounds of D.Va’s tinkering. Lucio started to beatbox with the rhythm, and you found yourself grooving with him, bobbing and swaying on top of the crate. D.Va tapped the metal plating every now and then, shimmying her shoulders. Outside, you could see the grass and the cliffs, and the water that extended far beyond. You closed your eyes, imagining yourself standing on the edge, toes dangling but not quite enough to send you over. You imagined flying and plunging into the water like some elegant, divine creature.

A tap on your arm got your attention; Lucio had hopped off the box and was there, offering his hand. You hesitated, spotting D.Va glaring from under her rig, furiously motioning you onward, mouthing for you to go ahead. You took his hand, and he gently pulled you down and began to glide around you on his skates. You followed his movements, shuffling and sliding with him even though your bare feet didn’t move quite so smoothly. D.Va giggled at your awkward dancing but you didn’t care, you felt free and light and emptied your mind til all you knew was your feet, your heart, and the hand around yours.


End file.
